Black and Blue
by Raphaella
Summary: Vincent attends to Cid's minor injuries after a bar fight. Pretty much fluff.


**Black and Blue**

AN: Written sometime last year. Just a little idea that popped up.

/

The kitchen door banged back onto the counter as it was bumped rather forcefully open. Faint light from the streetlamp outside filtered into the room as two figures stumbled in. One of them tripped over his bruised leg and hit the door.

"Ow. Fuckin' shin kills," Cid moaned quietly as Vincent helped him in. He was left to lean against the counter edge as Vincent shut and locked the door behind them. Cid had told him many times that no one in Rocket Town would ever break into his house (they wouldn't dare), but the night's most recent events had quite rightly warranted his security actions, and thus Cid didn't say anything this time. "Bedroom. 'S a med kit in there," the pilot murmured, fighting the reaction to wince as he gingerly cupped a swollen elbow.

Vincent took his good arm in hand and aided his trek across the dark room to the stairs. They climbed it fairly easily, despite Cid's injured body and the lack of light. They were quiet as they went, adapting to the silence of the night. The bedroom was the first door on the landing, and a few seconds later Vincent was lowering his partner onto the bed. Cid grunted quietly in relief as he sank onto the soft mattress, feeling the pressures ease now his weight was lifted off the majority of his injuries. He raised his blue eyes to watch Vincent.

"In the bathroom," Cid indicated the en suite, and Vincent disappeared into the black shadows to retrieve the first aid kit. He didn't need light to find his way, nor did he need it to see into the dark cupboard under the sink. His sight was far superior to that of a normal human. Cid envied him sometimes, but his feelings of jealous soon disappeared upon remembering just _how_ Vincent had received his heightened senses.

Vincent reappeared a few seconds later with the small green box in hand. He set it down on the nightstand beside Cid and switched on the dim lamp. Light threw them into view, bathing them in a soft glow. The newly cast shadows made Cid's swollen cheek look larger than it actually was, and the blood trickling from the cut on his eyebrow looked black against his skin.

Cid twisted his face around for Vincent to admire. "Still love me?"

The gunman's eyes twinkled in faint amusement as a slight tug of his lips indicated a small smile, though it was hidden in the shadows behind his cape collar. He opened the med kit and pulled out a few small cotton balls before facing his partner and assessing what needed dabbing first. The cut lip, split eyebrow or the swelling of the man's cheek. And they were just his _facial_ injuries. Vincent lowered onto one knee before the pilot and, using his right hand, turned Cid's head to the light. He then used the same hand to dab at the blood on his eye ridge.

"Bastard tourists," Cid mumbled as he let his partner clean him up, hands on thighs as though this was a common occurrence. "Won't be stirring shit up again in my town."

Vincent's lips twitched again. Cid was the main 'law' enforcer of Rocket Town, as well as almost everything thing else a town needed. He was the man everyone looked up to and consulted if a problem occurred. In this aspect, Rocket Town was a unique place, in that it didn't follow the same system as others. This was a town Vincent could and did quite happily call home. It was _Cid's_ town.

With the excess blood cleared away and the wound cleaned, Vincent applied a square gauze bandage over Cid's blond eyebrow.

"Yer not gonna kiss it better?" Cid smirked, casting his sparkling blue eye to his lover's red ones.

Vincent raised an eyebrow gracefully, but the silence that followed provoked him to humor the pilot. He awkwardly stretched up and placed a kiss on the dressed injury, before recoiling and challenging Cid's grin with a level gaze.

Cid snaked a hand behind Vincent's head and pulled him back. "I think it'll work better this way." He attached his lips to Vincent's, both pairs automatically parting so they could seek out a deeper contact. They indulged in their passion for a few seconds longer before pulling away softly, slightly breathy. "I feel better already," Cid smiled.

Vincent mimicked the expression. Within a few minutes he had cleaned and dressed Cid's cuts and bruises, and was pressing a cold compress to Cid's swollen cheek when the creak of a floorboard drew their attention to the door. It opened slowly and Shera peered into the dimly lit room, looking bleary-eyed and wearing her nightdress, roused from her slumber by their voices.

"Cid…?" She asked, her voice thick with sleep. "What happened?"

"Just a bar fight, Shera. Go back to sleep." He said, warmly. His attitude had changed considerably towards her since his involvement with Vincent, Shera was pleased to realize.

"You want any ointment?" She asked, stifling a yawn.

"'S'alright, Vince has got it."

"Okay. Night boys…" And she disappeared into the darkness back to her calling bed.

Cid cupped the hand of Vincent's that was holding the compress to his cheek, pressing the wonderful cold against his burning skin. "Didn't do too bad, five against one, huh?" He grinned.

Vincent gave him a look. "I think you enjoy fist fights."

"_Do_ yer?" It was rhetorical.

"Barbarian…"

Cid grinned, ignoring the pain this caused in his cheek. "I'll show yer a barbarian when the swellin' goes down."

A pair of crimson eyes flashed in the dim light. "…It would work better if the swelling was _up_…"

Silence claimed the room for a long moment.

Cid gawked. Eyebrows high despite the pain, an uncontrollable smirk crossed the pilot's features as he stared at his partner. A sly expression quickly replaced it. "I think instead of ice it might need somethin' …hm, _hot_…?"

The gap between them closed again. "I can help with that, too…" Vincent said huskily.

A few minutes later Shera sighed and stared up at the ceiling. She considered turning on her television, or tuning into the nighttime radio station to at least drown out the noise emanating from the other bedroom. But neither device would muffle the thumping of the headboard on the wall, and she had to resign herself to the fact that she wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon.

At least, she reassured herself, the Captain would be in a good mood tomorrow.

…

…

Even though they would _both_ be aching in the morning.

END


End file.
